


But You Can (Take Me All the Way)

by ShadowsLament



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsLament/pseuds/ShadowsLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Hook, and a could-have-been moment on the ship before reaching Neverland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But You Can (Take Me All the Way)

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing [this picture](http://shadowslament.tumblr.com/post/64037358102) and immediately thinking _Hook_ , I couldn't not write something. That something turned out to be brief, true, but it's a start.

Emma opened her eyes and blinked, shying away from the abandoned checkerboard of light thrown down on the floor from gaps in the quarterdeck’s planks. Slim fingers strayed into a black square and curled in, blunt nails holding unfamiliar ground as she inched up and sat braced against the wall. Rolling her shoulders, muscles cramped in a knot between the blades loosened. A soft, pained huff brought her head up.

Across the floor, lying on his side, Hook shifted. Emma’s breath caught, stalling in her throat until he settled with a hushed sigh. Wide eyes skittered down the line of his cheek, resting on his forearm, to his nose, tucked into the bend of his elbow. The tensed stretch of his triceps cast over his bare chest a shadow as dark as the shirt bunched beneath his head. Emma swallowed, followed the stain of color to the ravines carved into his abdomen, to the black hair narrowly trailing into the waistband of his leather pants.

Her fist tightened, knuckles brushing the stiff collar of his coat, draped over her thighs. Drawing her legs up, she pulled her knees toward her chest. 

“If your eyes are all that shall ever touch my skin, I’d ask you to look up.”

Each soft word was a lash. Emma clenched her eyes shut, and burned. “How long have you been awake?”

“Just now,” Hook said, pushing up on his elbow. “Only moments before I felt you, here.” Callused fingertips grazed his chest, snagging fine hairs. “And here.” Drawing his hand down, his fingers splayed low on his stomach. “But you stopped here, and I knew the dream had found its unfortunate end.”

“You could have said something,” Emma bit out. “Before.”

“I’m good, love, better than, but there are things beyond even my abilities.” He leaned forward. His warmth crept closer still, stealing over her chilled arms. Goose bumps erupted beneath her palms, the urge to rub them out insistent. She ignored it, holding Hook’s heavy-lidded gaze. “Such as ever suggesting you turn from me.”

She caught herself, held still when instinct told her to stand, run, and looked at his coat, a black, rippled pool between them. Emma nudged a sleeve with her toe, testing the waters. “Thanks. For the blanket.”

He inclined his head. “There were nights on the water so cold I could feel neither my fingertips nor my--”

“Pretty sure I can guess--”

“Toes, love. You might get your mind out of my--”

“Hook.”

“Near enough, if a little to the--”

“I liked you better when I thought you were sleeping,” Emma muttered.

Hook’s grin shifted, sharpened. 

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Better.” He reached out, glancing the cool metal of his hook off her cheek, her shoulder. The smooth curve slid down her biceps, cradled her forearm. Hook tugged gently, leaning in. He looked down at his coat: her fingers and his, tip to tip, formed a bridge across it. “That word.” His lashes lifted; his eyes, myriad shades of blue, like the sky wrapped around the moon, focused on her face. “I like what it supposes.”

“It doesn’t.” She couldn’t shake her head to punctuate the denial; he was too close. His breath touched her mouth and her tongue chased it, slicking dry lips. “It--”

“Does,” he quietly argued. “You’ve all but admitted it, love.” 

“I don’t know what you’re--” Emma stopped, swallowed what remained of the lie. “What about you?”

“Yes,” Hook said, tilting his head. The smooth skin of his forehead burned hers, a fever she wasn’t certain she wanted to break. “What about me?”

His tone teased, but she heard the uncertainty, the risk he took. Emma breathed in, deep and long, and held it for the span of one thick heartbeat. “How would this even work?”

“Day by day,” he said, and when she didn’t withdraw, laced his fingers through hers. “What do you say, Emma? Shall we begin?”

The floor beneath her was hard, rough with splinters that shallowly pierced her legs. Her back ached, a dull throb skipping up her spine. And Henry: his absence was an incandescent worry, blindingly bright and growing stronger as one minute bled into another, and another. But Killian’s scent was there, too, cutting through the salt of the sea gently rocking the ship, and his grip on her hand was tight. Tight, but not unbreakable. Emma closed her eyes and, scraping her cheek against his stubble, brought her lips to his ear. “Maybe.” She smiled, slowly. “Maybe.”


End file.
